Watchmen: Legacies
by shanejayell
Summary: After the end, it should be over. But Rorschach has been seen in the city....
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from Watchmen, they all belong to Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons and DC Comics. This is set after the end of Watchmen, so if you haven't read it this story could be considered a spoiler.

Watchmen: Legacy

_New York didn't die because of a alien attack, but it's such a big lie everyone believes it. But I know. They published R.'s journal in the New Frontier, blacking out the names to avoid a libel suit, but no one wanted to believe. A man like Ozymandius, murdering a city? Impossible. Such a country of fools._

The announcer smiled brightly as she continued, "The New York memorial is well under way, with the tribute statue to the fallen complete." Her smile faltered a bit as she continued, "However the recent killings of pimps continue, and apparently the calling card resembles that of the criminal Rorschach."

_I watch them on street corners with a mix of pity and contempt. They should find a better way to support themselves, for their sake and their children. But I know why they do it, and I'll see it stopped. No matter the cost._

"Shit," the cop covered his mouth as he went green, then ran for the opening of the alley. He gasped in fresh air as he tried to get the smell out of his nose, to not see the maggots dancing on rotting flesh.

"Looks like it's been here about two weeks, maybe more," his partner noted, the young woman kneeling beside the corpse, a cloth held over her mouth.

"How can you do that, Rita?" he asked weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve then covering his own mouth with a cloth.

"We do what we have to," the redheaded woman answered with a shrug. Rita got up and frowned, "There's something missing, Alan..."

"Huh?" Alan blinked, the sandy brown haired man looking around. He frowned as he saw something in the corner, "Got a piece of paper over here, looks newer than the rest of the trash."

Rita pulled on a rubber glove to preserve evidence and carefully skirted the body as she picked it up. She opened the folded sheet and both cops gasped in a mix of fear and alarm. A letter r was written there, reflected like a rorschach blotch.

"Oh crap," Alan said weakly, "not him."

Rita shook her head, "He's supposed to be dead, remember? It was on the news."

"Well obviously the news got it wrong," Alan said dryly. .

"Maybe," Rita stood up, holding the paper still in her hand as she mused, "or maybe there's a copycat."

"Oh, just what the world needs," Alan muttered as the crime scene techs began to bag the body, "another Rorschach."

_City stinks of death and corruption. They cleaned all the corpses away but the stink still lingers, from the highest towers down to the gutters. I walk the streets invisibly, past the dealers, the thieves and the murderers. Someone must take a stand, someone must remind them of right and wrong._

Adrian Veidt looked out at the city from Pyramid Industries, the blonde haired man studying the city below them. Turning to the two detectives he said flatly, "There's no way it could be Rorschach."

"And you know that how?" Alan asked skeptically, leaning against the desk and wishing he could light up his smokeless pipe.

"I didn't see him die myself," Adrian conceded as he turned to face them, his finely made suit hugging his athletic body, "but Dr. Manhattan confirmed it."

"Ah," Rita murmured, her eyes widening just a bit as something had occurred to her.

Adrian nodded slightly, "I never asked, but I assume so."

"They published Rorschach's journal in the New Frontier," Alan said quietly, "pretty wild stuff. Do you think he inspired a copycat?"

"Possibly," Adrian agreed as he picked up a pyramid paperweight and turned it over in his hands, "while I don't agree with it Rorschach's simplistic black and wight view of the world could be very tempting."

Rita nodded as she made notes, "The equipment to make his costume... hard to come by?"

"Very easy," Adrian shook his head, "the black and white cloth is still popular, and can be shaped by cutting with heated instruments to hold the seals. He never wore a normal costume just a peacoat and hat..."

"So no way we can find this nutjob based on equipment?" Alan said sourly. "Great."

As Rita put her notebook away she said, "Please be careful, sir. It's quite possible whomever this new Rorschach is, he or she may bear a grudge against you."

Adrian lifted his chin, "I've survived assassination attempts before."

"Maybe," Rita noted, "but back then you paid for them yourself."

_It seems Veidt is as shallow as ever. Not worth the effort to kill, barely worth investigating. Confirmed he was homosexual, not a issue in his activities. Inspired by Hooded Justice and Captain Metropolis?_

The district captain pushed the documents aside as he studied the two officers. Rita Morgan was young, intense and driven, one of many people moving to New York in defiance of the alien attack. Alan Gibbons had just drifted to the town, a lack-luster cop looking to end his career in a town where the worst had already happened.

"Sir," Rita nodded to Chief Snyder, standing attentively in front of the desk while Alan slouched nearby.

Jack Snyder sat back as he said, "Why no progress on these Rorschach killings?"

"There is progress sir," Rita corrected, "we've got physical evidence from the bodies as well as a apparent method of operation. We just need a break..."

"We got dick," Alan corrected. He took a puff from his water pipe, "No witnesses to the perp, no trace evidence from him."

Snyder studied the two cops, "Any proof it is Rorschach?"

"Just the notes," Rita conceded, "and the targets fit."

"Yeah," Alan conceded, "they feel like Rorschach kills, from what I can tell. Real murderous SOBs, couple of which had been through the system a few times. Either light sentences or walked on technicalities."

"Was that commonly known?" Snyder asked them, wondering if Rorschach might just have a police connection.

"A few of the early release cases made the news," Alan sounded disgusted, "they had a whole series. Might as well have painted a target on these bastard's backs."

"Damn," Snyder sighed. He sat up, "All right, keep plugging away at this you two. We need the public to think we're taking it seriously."

"Yes sir," Rita saluted then both of them left.

_The police are less than useless. They're cutting off fingers while the patient's arm rots. And across the city I hear cats cry like babies, and I know what they fear. The wretched scum of humanity with their porn and other amusements don't care about anyone else. But someone has to care, and I guess that would be me._

Walking home from work at a dismal little café the young woman took a shortcut down a alley, the brown haired girl more preoccupied by calculating her overtime then watching where she was going. She didn't realize she was being followed nor was aware of the other figure watching from the shadows.

"Hey pretty girl," one of the men leered as they moved to cut her off, "have you come to play with us?"

"No, I...," she started to turn to run, only to see another man behind her, grinning evilly.

"No way you came down here on your own," the first man laughed, "bring friends?"

She held her purse like a weapon, "Get away from me."

"Now, don't be unfriendly," the man's smile was gone as he flicked out a concealed knife.

"I wouldn't do that," the muffled voice warned coldly, drawing their eyes to the mouth of the alley. The man stood there in his long brown trench coat, a fedora pulled down shadowing his face, but instead of facial features he wore a eerie mask, black and white blobs moving across the material.

"Oh fuck," one of the men said weakly, taking a half step backwards.

"He ain't the real Rorschach," the man with the knife snarled as he ran at him, "he's dead, damn it!"

"Do I look dead?" Rorschach hissed as he kicked out, slamming his foot brutally against the man's kneecap. With a howl he went down and Rorschach calmly picked up the knife and plunged it into the goon's hand.

"Jesus!" the wounded man yelped, yanking his hand back as the other stared on in shock.

"Hmm," Rorschach walked by the wounded man as he advanced on the other attacker, "you threatened the lady. Poor behavior."

"S... stay back!" the second man stammered, backing away and hitting the side wall at the far end of the alley.

Rorschach grabbed him by the collar, something in his stance more menacing than usual, "In a good mood, so I'll give you a choice." Rattling the man with a simple shake he continued, "Turn yourself in to the cops, confess. Or I will find you." With that Rorschach let him go and he fled from the alley, grabbing his injured friend as he did do.

The young woman pushed off from where she had been cringing against the wall, "Thank you."

His voice was surprisingly gentle as Rorschach said, "Be careful going home. This isn't a safe city for a woman alone."

Rorschach watched the woman walk away, turning and walking away into the shadows. The mask came off easily, shoved into a coat pocket along with the hat, and Rita Morgan smiled grimly as she walked on.

_The reputation is as great a weapon as the mask. People are frightened of Rorschach, and that fear gives me an edge. I'll need it if I intend to take his place, in this city of sin and corruption. I'm not really Rorschach yet, but I think in time I will be._

End

Notes: There's a tradition of "legacy" heroes in Watchmen, with both Niteowl and Silk Specter having successors carry on for them. I thought it might be interesting to see a successor for Rorschach , done in the style of the second Question.


	2. Chapter 2

Watchmen: Shadows and Light

The pretty black haired announcer moved across the stage as she continued, "Sadly, many of the heroes called the Minutemen came to bad ends." Pictures of costumed heroes flashed behind her as she narrated, "Dollar Bill was shot and killed stopping a bank robbery, Mothman fell into alcoholism and suffered a mental breakdown, Captain Metropolis was decapitated in a car crash, Hooded Justice was murdered, the original Nite Owl was beaten to death in his home and Silhouette was expelled from the team, outed as a lesbian and killed by a former foe."

A noted psychiatrist took a turn as he puffed on his water pipe, "It should be noted that many heroes of the past were unstable personalities." He gestured, his brown and grey hair shining, "Just look at the Comedian! He was a killer on government payroll, controlled as much for our safety as anyone else."

"So you think superheroes may be insane?" the hostess asked.

"I wouldn't go that far Ms. Lincon," the psychiatrist smiled charmingly, "but just look at Silhouette's lifestyle!"

Amy Lincon kept her professional smile in place as she pointed out, "Doctor, you know homosexuality is no longer considered a mental illness...."

The show ran down as the hour finished, Amy giving her final monologue and the studio audience applauding politely on cue. As the 'off air' sign lit up Amy puffed out a sigh of relief as the noted psychiatrist hopped up, stomping off the set with a decidedly unpleasant look on his usually handsome face.

Jessie the makeup girl had Amy in her seat, carefully removing the extra makeup that helped bring out her color under the harsh lights of the studio. "You know," the sandy blonde noted, "I don't think he liked you contradicting him."

"If he's going to trot out sexuality as a sign of superhero insanity," Amy shrugged as much as she could in the makeup chair, "he'd better be prepared for people to take shots at him." She chuckled, "Not that running around in skin tight outfits isn't kinky, but...."

"Fair enough," Jesse agreed as she finished removing the foundation with cold cream. "Do you want me to...?" she gestured to the makeup case.

"No, I'm fine," Amy chuckled as she took off the smock covering her fine job clothes and sat up. 'Besides,' she thought with a sigh, 'you're too damn cute. Just having you touch my face can get me going....'

"One day you gotta let me do your face," Jesse said with a smile, "I bet you'd look even better than on set."

Amy shook her head, "Sorry, Jesse." As she stretched she said, "I find skipping makeup helps me avoid being recognized." She stripped off her fancy dress, standing in just bra and panties as she pulled on a simple black dress, digging a black out of her closet,

"True enough," Jesse agreed, her eyes lingering on her shapely body as Amy changed. She waved as the newswoman drew a jacket around her, "Stay safe."

"Always," Amy agreed as she headed out into the night, wishing that Jesse would make a move on her. 'Maybe she doesn't know I'm not straight?' she wondered.

New York had changed a great deal in the aftermath of the alien attack that had killed most of the city and devastated Times Square. The population had plummeted like a rock compared to the pre-attack era and was only now rising back up. The city was safer, arguably, but eerily deserted at times which made people nervous.

Amy kept a eye out as she walked, her long coat flowing around her legs.

Making things even odder was the return of the costumed vigilantes. The notorious Rorschach was cutting a swath through the bad side of town, going after the foot-soldiers of organized crime while the second Nite Owl and a mysterious woman in leather were tearing through the high class clubs and fronts of the mob.

'I wonder if I should do a follow up story to tonight's episode?' Amy mused. 'Looking at the modern successors, maybe?'

There was a eerie quiet on the street as Amy neared Time's Square, pausing in a intersection to look over the empty streets. Once upon a time it had bustled twenty four hours a day but now it was quiet at night, the only businesses willing to move back in being mob backed or at least slightly shady.

Suddenly a explosion rang out as the front of a building blew out! Yelling and alarms rang as two figures burst from the building, one of them sporting a short cape that swirled in the wind. Beside him a woman in black leather armor punched a man out as she drew a pistol, putting a bullet through a charging mobster's leg.

'That's got to be Nite Owl,' Amy thought as she whipped her digital camera out and began to take shots, 'but who's the sexy lady?'

The woman turned, revealing a partial face mask that revealed brown eyes that seemed to zap Amy where she stood. "Don't look now, Nite Owl," the woman smiled, "looks like we've got a little company."

"Right, Silk Spectre," Nite Owl agreed as he finished punching out another probable gangster. With a touch of his wrist a flying machine descended from the sky on thrusters and a ladder deployed, both heroes swiftly climbing aboard.

"Make sure you get the owl-ship's good side!" Silk Spectre joked as they disappeared inside and vanished into a cloudy sky.

"Oh my...," Amy managed to get out as she watched in awe, barely remembering to snap a few more photos as they disappeared.

It was all over the news next day, and Amy's photos were on the front pages. Her boss at the studio threatened to issue her a video camera, he was so envious of the story she got, and it helped that she was able to write up the feature for the papers, too. Of course, each had it's own slant; the Times being very pro law and order they opposed the vigilantes, the Globe supported them and the New Frontier wanted them to burn down more crime dens.

"So," Arthur Griffin said as they sat in the office at the TV studio, her boss looking at her thoughtfully, "you want to do a story on the Watchmen?"

"Obviously," Amy nodded eagerly, "it seems like the thing to do, too."

Arthur leaned forward, his hair still anchor-man stylish even though it'd been years since he'd appeared on camera. "But what's your angle?" he asked intensely, "You know everyone and his dog are jumping on the story as we speak."

"I know," Amy admitted, frowning. She had a edge as the first reporter on the scene but every major and minor TV station in the city was chasing the story on the return of superheroes. Unless she could come up with something unique....

Arthur looked at her in surprise, "You have the oddest look on your face."

"I think I've got an idea," Amy breathed out, her mind already racing as she considered the details of her plan.

"What?" Arthur asked, not sure he liked the look in her eyes.

Amy leaned over, her eyes twinkling as she said, "What if... the station had it's own, official costumed hero?!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Why pick Silhouette?" Jesse asked curiously as she helped apply a bit of spirit gum to hold the mask in place.

"I always felt she got a bit of a bad rap," Amy answered as she adjusted the black gloves she wore. She smiled, "And besides, we share... similar interests."

Jesse grinned as she asked teasingly, "Then the rumors about you and that cute little production assistant are true?"

Amy blushed as Jesse smoothed the mask on, "We were just friends, thanks. Besides, she wasn't my type."

Jesse was tempted to ask what her type was, but she knew it might not be such a good idea. "Why don't you try moving?" she asked, "Let's see how well the costume works."

Amy got up, the slick black bodysuit hugging her body from the neck down to her boots. She kicked to the side, feeling the material stretch but not rip as it was designed to. Even better it was a advanced material intended for the police and military, providing a reasonable defense against blades and light handguns.

'Better make sure I dodge,' Amy thought as she stretched, feeling Jesse's eyes resting on her. "Jesse?" she asked as she turned, glad the sports bra she wore made her breasts stand up under the tight cloth.

"Y... yes?" Jesse stammered, the blonde blushing faintly.

Amy stalked towards her as she purred, "How do I look?"

Jesse seemed frozen as Amy stood in front of her sexily, a dangerous look in her eye. "You look gorgeous," she admitted a bit breathlessly.

Amy reached out to caress her cheek, "Thank you." She gave a slow, teasing smile as she said, "You didn't ask what my type was."

Jesse met her eyes as she asked, "Well, what is your type?"

Amy chuckled softly, "Shy blondes who do my makeup for me." With that she smoothly pulled Jesse into a kiss, the other woman willingly pulling her close as the kiss deepened.

They pulled apart finally, leaving Jesse messed up and breathless. "I don't remember you being this aggressive before," she admitted before adding, "I kind of like it."

"I think it's the mask," Amy chuckled wickedly, "wanna help me do a expose on the sex lives of super heroes?"

Jesse blushed even brighter, "Yeah...."

End

Notes: Silhouette is a actual character from Watchmen, a member of the Minutemen who only appears in flashbacks. I've always felt she was a interesting character and could have used a modern successor, much like Nite Owl and Silk Specter. The reason Silk Specter is not in her original costume is due to comments she makes at the end of Watchmen....


	3. Chapter 3

Watchmen: Manhattan Project

Joan Slater paused as the brown haired woman looked at the package, her eyes widening as she recognized her mother as the sender. 'But she's been dead for months,' she thought as she walked across the living room of her New York penthouse.

In the aftermath of the alien attack Joan had returned to the city, drawn as much by low property values as a chance to begin again. Working as a newspaper editor she saw up close the chaos as the city slowly came to grips with the tragedy as well as it's efforts of renewal.

Sitting down on her couch Joan tore open the papers, the twenty some year old frowning as she wondered what was going on. Within was a letter and a thick journal, one that reminded her of the supposed Rorschach journal. 'This had better not be a prank,' she thought as she opened the letter, blinking as she recognized her mother's handwriting.

_Dear Joan, _

_If you are receiving this letter, then I'm most likely dead. I suspect it's going to be the cancer that kills me, but it's certainly possible some maniac with a gun will do it first. There were a lot of things I wanted to tell you before, but to be honest I was just too cowardly to speak of them. Forgive me my secrets, please. This journal will answer some of the questions I know you were too kind to press me on, and I hope it will help you in the future._

_Your mother, Janet Slater_

Joan blinked as she opened up the book, flipping through the pages. It looked like a diary, dating back to when she was a young woman. With a sigh Joan settled down on the couch, plopped the book in her lap and began to read, minutes shifting to hours....

"Oh my god...," with a gasp Joan let the book thump to the floor from nerveless fingers, her brain trying to digest what she had just read.

Much like other daughters of single mothers Joan had wondered about who her father was, but it had always been just a intellectual question. She might have daydreamed about having a rich or famous father but the love and caring she had received from her mother had been more than enough for her. At best she had wondered where she had gotten a few of her features, but generally speaking she hadn't really cared.

But never in her wildest dreams had Joan expected something like this. Her biological father, the mysteryman that her mother had refused to talk about, was Jon Osterman. Her father was Dr. Manhattan!

Picking up the book Joan read about her mother leaving Jon, the increasingly remote hero barely noticing she was gone. Her mother had left the country before Jon became aware she was pregnant, having the child with relatives then returning with a 'adopted' child, as many unwed mothers did.

'And Jon never knew?' Loan thought skeptically as she read ahead.

In fact he DID find out about the pregnancy, offering to marry Janet if she wanted. She turned him down, but did accept financial support for Joan, including him setting up a trust for her to use in emergency. He also asked to write to their daughter in the future, a letter that was inside the journal too.

'This ought to be interesting,' Joan thought as she opened the envelope.

_Dear Joan_

_I'm writing to you with a very unique perspective, as I'm as knowlegable of you as I am the room I'm in now. Due to the nature of my powers, of the quantum physics scientists are only beginning to understand, I am aware of you almost as if I were in the same room with you. I will try to answer the questions I know you have, though I suspect those answers will not satisfy you._

_First, yes I was aware that Janey was pregnant when she left me. I suppose I could have chased after her or forced her to stay, but I knew at that point she no longer loved me. While raising you might have brought us closer together, I suspect we would have still broken up eventually, possibly damaging you emotionally in the process._

_Secondly, you also possess powers like myself. Because you inherited rather than going through the same experiences I did your abilities will be less powerful, likely limited forms of energy manipulation. I expect you'll be capable of flight, force fields and throwing energy bolts. _

_How you use your powers is up to you, but I would suggest using a mask. If my experiences as a government agent have taught me anything, it's letting the government control your life is ultimately a bad idea. I don't regret the things I've done in my life, but if I had been given a choice I would have helped more people and been less of a weapon._

_I wish you well, Joan. Good luck with the life you'll lead._

_Jon Osterman_

'I have powers?' Joan thought, shaking her head in disbelief. She got up, walking out of the sliding door out onto the porch, gazing out at a city still rebuilding from a disaster. 'It's a joke... probably a obscure joke by someone who was already losing touch with his own humanity.'

Without thinking about it, almost unwillingly Joan felt her gaze moving to the vase perched on a railing at the corner of her balcony. It was a ugly vase, clashing with almost everything in her house, but it was a gift from a longtime friend. So instead of being thrown out it was banished out here, collecting rain water.

Looking at it Joan thought, 'I couldn't... could I?' She gestured towards the vase, focusing her concentration as she imagined it exploding. Light flared between her fingers and she yelped in surprise as the energy leapt from her palm to the vase, shattering it.

"Wow," Joan said weakly, realizing her life had got a lot more complicated.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

'Oh hell,' Rorschach thought as she raised her fists, realizing she was badly outnumbered. Goons moved to block the doorway she had kicked open, the men staying far enough back to keep her from easily charging them.

"Well, we meet once again," the tall, thin blonde emerged from the shadows, her red gown hugging her slim body. A mask covered her eyes as the woman called the Mystic added, "You've become quite a thorn in my side, Rorschach."

"Mystic," Rorschach nodded as she kept her voice low and even. "The tip I got, a trap. Very clever."

Mystic looked disapointed at the lack of reaction. "I'm willing to repeat my offer," she drawled, "come work for me."

"I'd sooner die," Rorschach answered flatly.

"So be it," Mystic nodded to her men as they raised guns.

Before the fire order could be given a figure crashed through the skylight, dropping down only to hover about a foot off the ground. A red cape swirled around the blue garbed woman, a half mask concealing her face as brown hair fell around her shoulders.

"Who the...?" Mystic cursed, feeling a bit uneasy as she realized the woman was floating under her own power, no hidden wires or harness.

"My name is Captain Manhattan!" she declared, gesturing with one hand and causing a gun to explode in one of the goon's hands.

"Get her!" one criminal cried and guns blazed, smoke filling the air as weapons exploded and bullets stopped in midair. Seizing the chance Rorschach leapt into action, diving in the mids of one group of criminals, keeping therm from using their guns.

Captain Manhattan was grace in motion, blocking bullets with force fields as she blasted criminals down, knocking them out with carefully controlled bursts of energy. She rarely fought physically but seemed not to need too, soon finishing the majority of gangsters on her own.

Rorschach punched a goon to make sure he was down, then looked around in frustration. "Where's Mystic?" she demanded.

"Escaped in the confusion," Captain Manhattan admitted, "I was too busy with the goons to focus on her."

"Hrm," Rorschach smiled slightly, "well, we're alive and they're stopped. Good enough."

"I suppose I should try arresting you," Captain Manhatten shrugged slightly, "but I suppose I'm a outlaw too." With no warning she rose up in the air, the light shimmering around her, "I suspect we'll meet again sometime."

"Wait...." Rorschach started but she was gone. 'Wish I had got her number,' she admitted then blushed, 'especially considering how good she looks in those tights.'

To be continued....

Notes: Janey really was Dr. Manhattan's girl friend in canon, but her having a daughter was my idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Watchmen: Legacies

Loose Ends

Adrian Veidt looked over the city from the high tower of Pyramid Developments, the blond haired man feeling strangely pensive as he considered the world that he had made. It had been nearly a year since the 'alien attack' on Earth, and so far things were going as he had modeled. The threat of nuclear was between the United States and Soviet Union was much reduced and international cooperation was holding at a higher level. However, there were unexpected complications....

The files were painfully thin, spread out on his desk in no particular order. Rorschach, Nite Owl and Silk Spectre, Captain Manhattan and Silhouette, all heroes who had been operating recently, all of whom could be a great help or hinderance to him. These files were compiled by his staff based on media reports and confidential contacts, now he was waiting for a report from another of his agents.

The phone rang almost exactly on time and Adrian picked it up, listening for a moment. "Has it been confirmed that Manhattan's abilities are real?" he asked the private investigator who was building a more complete set of reports for him.

"No fully confirmed eye witness reports," the man replied to him honestly. Paper rustled as he checked his notes, "The witnesses I have found are rather unreliable, as I suspect they'd sell out their own mother for a buck."

"Heh," Adrian smiled slightly.

"I also had to avoid asking too leading questions like, 'Did you see the machine gun explode?' and such," he added dryly. "However, everyone agrees that Manhattan was flying. I investigated the scene after the police were gone," he said, "it's remotely possible she did it with a harness and cables, but it's not likely to pull off the preformance she did."

"And the energy bursts?" Adrian asked.

"That's harder to confirm," the investigator admitted. "Several somewhat reliable witnesses have confirmed some of the guns exploding on their own," he said, "but we can't determine the cause with any degree of certainty."

'Much like Dr. Manhattan's abilities,' Adrian thought to himself grimly. "Write up a report, along with any second hand data you can get," he instructed.

"Yes sir," the man answered before hanging up.

Adrian sighed as he picked up the pyramid paperweight on his desk, turning it over in his hands as he thought about the situation. The return of costumed adventurers wasn't really surprising, he supposed. People liked simple, direct solutions to their problems, and you didn't get much simpler than a person in a costume beating up a bad guy. And after a great trauma like humanity had experienced....

The blonde haired man winced slightly, paling as his imagination ran away with him. He had seen models of the teleporting event, he knew what the shockwave would have been like. He dropped into his chair, covering his face with his hands as he fought to quell the guilt and grief that ate at his soul. Untold numbers of people had died in Manhattan, and the responsibility rested on his shoulders.

There was a soft knock on the door, then his secretary's voice called, "Mr. Veidt? Are you all right? I heard a sound...."

Adrian forced the roughness out of his voice as he said, "I'm fine." He smiled as the young woman peeked inside, "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"Sorry," Amanda smiled as the redhead told him, "but you wanted to be told if the appeal to the Hays Act went through. Apparently the Appeals court has agreed to hear the case."

"Thank you," Adrian smiled, and she returned to her desk in the outer office.

The television station sponsoring the heroine Silhouette was appealing a attempt at charging her under the act, and the fact that the court of appeals agreed to hear the case was encouraging. Adrian suspected he knew how they were going to argue the case, it was a defense he himself had considered using. Still, this whole situation opened up a very old can of worms.

Looking at what was going on Adrian saw three probable courses he could follow. First, he could stand by and do nothing, which was tempting. Second, he could throw his weight behind enforcing the Act, though that might lead to a backlash against him from those supporting the costumed heroes. And third, he could support the heroes in opposition to the act.

Of the three possibilities the one that benefited him the most was opposing the Act. Not only would it be good public relations, but it would also dovetail with several other scenarios he was developing. And, in all honesty, he knew guilt was one of his motivations. He knew what he had done was necessary, but the cost haunted him, and whatever small good he could do to make up for it would help him sleep a bit better at night.

Pressing the intercom button on his desk Adrian said, "Amanda, check my schedule. I want to speak to the Governor as soon as possible."

"Should I call his aides and see if he's free?" Amanda asked politely, knowing that the Governor would open his schedule if someone as wealthy as Adrian Veidt called.

"Please do," Adrian smiled, already plotting his approach.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The aide nodded respectfully as Adrian stepped out of the helicopter, the wind barely ruffling his brown hair. "We've opened up two hours in his schedule," Clint Walker said briskly as he escorted Adrian into the governor's mansion in upstate New York, "I hope that will be enough?"

"More than enough," Adrian said pleasantly as they walked through the enterance and up the stairs towards the office at the back of the house. 'They must be worried about needing extra reelection funds,' he noted dryly.

They reached the office, where two guards looked them over while one radioed inside. As he waited Adrian calmly figured all the ways he could disarm one or both of the guards and kill everyone in the room, done merely as a mental exercise.

'Thirty eight,' Adrian thought and made a note to talk to the head of security. The guards really were a bit too lax....

"Adrian," Randolph Julius smiled as the thin, balding man got up, "good to see you."

Randolph had been lucky to be out of the city when the 'attack' hit and had hurried home. When many people were in shock and unwilling to act he had stepped up, spearheading the clean up and recovery efforts. He was widely regarded as a national hero, though few knew that Adrian had given him a few nudges at the right time.

"Randolph, good to see you," Adrian shook his hand as they walked over to sit on comfortable chairs. Not at the desk, of course, because they were equals, more or less. They chatted in the friendly was politicians use to feel each other out, even as a aide brought coffee.

Sipping from his cup Randolph sighed then set it aside. "You usually don't ask to see me on such short notice," he said, "it's not a new crisis is it?"

"More like a old crisis," Adrian admitted. He drank his own coffee then asked, "You know about the Hays appeal?"

"That hero the TV station is sponsoring," Randolph nodded. He conceded, "I'm not a expert, but I was surprised the court agreed to hear the case."

"The Hays act was... very poorly worded," Adrian said mildly, "and it didn't properly take into account good samaritan laws." He drank some coffee, "Legally, if a person is in distress you can not simply pass by if you can reasonably be expected to help."

Randolph got it immediately, "While the Hays law says that if you are in a costume you must pass by, more or less." He put down his empty cup, "You think the appeal has a chance?"

"If they get a sympathetic judge," Adrian nodded. "Even if they don't they can appeal to the Supreme Court, whom I expect would rule in their favor."

Getting right to the point Randolph asked, "And which side do you come down on?"

Smiling slightly Adrian saluted him with his cup. "I supported the Hays act back in the day because I thought it was the best of several bad options," he answered, "I don't think that's true today."

They sat there a moment as Randolph mused, "I can't do anything directly...."

"Nor do I expect you too," Adrian answered calmly, "but I would like for your staff to ready a bill which would allow police forces to deputize certain willing citizens who wish to assist the police in the execution of their duties."

"So if the Act is tossed out we have a alternative ready," Randolph nodded. He smiled slightly, "I assume you want to deputize Nite Owl, Silk Specter and Silhouette. What about Rorschach?"

"If the new one is anything like her predecessor," Adrian said ruefully, "I doubt he or she would even agree to be deputized."

Randolph nodded, accepting Adrian's opinion as usual. "That might be a problem later," he cautioned Adrian tentatively.

"Yes and no," Adrian smiled faintly. "The public won't be happy that Rorschach is active," he said, "but from my contacts in the police they don't mind as much."

"Oh?" Randolph looked curious.

"The criminals that Rorschach seems to be targeting are," he looked thoughtful, "scum is too mild a word. Vermin, maybe. The more the police learn about Rorschach's victims, the less they want to chase him."

"Fair enough," Randolph nodded. A twinkle appeared I his eyes, "If they do overturn the Hays Act, will you return to adventuring?"

"Oh, no," Adrian swiftly shook his head, "I may be in fine shape, but I have no wish to wear a costume again."

"Hmm," Randolph looked a little disappointed, but hid it nicely. "Well," he said as they got up, "let's hope the next generation can handle the job."

"I think they'll do nicely," Adrian said to him firmly, shaking Randolph's hand once more before he headed out.

Amanda was chatting up a guard as she waited beside the 'copter, cutting a fine figure in her woman's business suit. She apologized to the guard as Adrian neared and held the door open for him. "Did everything go well sir?" she asked as she climbed in the back beside him.

"Well enough," Adrian said as he sat back, the helicopter rising smoothly. He looked out at the city as he thought, 'I'm bringing the heroes back to you, it's not much but it's a start.'

End.

Notes: Yes, this is the end unless I get inspired to do more. ^_^; My original plan was just to do the Rorschach story and stop, but I decided to flesh the world out a bit. If anyone wants to continue this, they're also quite welcome to.

My take on Adrian Veidt is that he is a mostly good man who did something evil for the greater good, and is now suffering crushing guilt. Based on his conversation with Dr. Manhattan in Watchmen, too. I suspect he'll carry on until the guilt finally overwhelms him and do himself in, somehow.


End file.
